Whining

I’m afraid to lift more than a water glass right now. The pain from last week’s fall is coming and going, fading long enough that I forget how bad it is, and then surging when I do forget and use it. Just a moment ago, it flared so badly that all I could do was sit and focus on it.

It *was* better. I carry my tension and stress in my shoulders, because the muscles there are already damaged and tense. Moving, getting a new job and living space on the other side of the country; getting the anthologies done; rebuilding a magazine; making sure my authors and press have good publicity; maintaining and growing various sorts of relationships; planning events and travel; family; activism. Those are the things that are stressful. But it’s a manageable stress with great rewards when I do it right. It’s stuff that I enjoy.

I’ve spent 2 days on the phone/emailing HR to resolve a poisonous situation at work. I’m not a confrontational person, but I’m having to be the standard-bearer here. It’s preying on a lot of my weaknesses, and bringing up the worries, fear and stress of a couple of years.

Now it’s all crashing down at once, and it’s just too much. Granted, it will eventually morph into rage–which is almost as bad–and I’ll be SuperGirl again, but for the moment, I feel like a marionette, and someone’s been cutting my strings and breaking my bones.

So bear with me, please. I’m a wreck. I don’t do weakness, but if someone gave me a hug right now, I’d probably lose it. I don’t have the resources to lose it. So please don’t hug me. I’m in *that place* in my head right now, and I’ll be ok, but for now…ow. In every way.